


hold my heart (in your hands)

by alotofthingsdifferent, fromiftowhen



Series: if the right one came along [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Feelings, Friends to Lovers, M/M, after-graduation au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3698159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/pseuds/alotofthingsdifferent, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromiftowhen/pseuds/fromiftowhen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike hadn't even stopped to think about whether Tom might be ready or not. He just assumed--</p><p>Well, that was silly. If the past eight days had taught him anything, it was that even something that seemed completely far-fetched and out of the question (like, say, your best friend being in love with you) was never really out of the question at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold my heart (in your hands)

**Author's Note:**

> Set directly after the first in this series, 'i've got this friend'. 
> 
> Basically this thing will never end and we're not mad about it.
> 
> Find us on tumblr at [fromiftowhen](fromiftowhen.tumblr.com) and [alotofthingsdifferent](alotofthingsdifferent.tumblr.com)!

Before Mike even opens his eyes on what would have been his and Jenny's wedding day, he feels like he's going to jump right out of his skin. Something heavy and warm is pinning him down though, and when he struggles against it, Tom's quiet voice soothes him. 

"Hey bud, it's okay," he murmurs, but still lifts his arm off Mike's stomach. He's so fucking patient, has been all week. 

 

They've been spending most nights together, hanging out in comfortable silence while watching movies or whatever happened to be on tv, fingers laced loosely together and resting on one of their thighs. There was a lot of lazy kissing, laying shirtless in Tom's bed with their legs tangled together, and it's been great, having Tom there to distract him for the inevitable arrival of this day.

But now it's here. The day he was supposed to put on a freshly-pressed gray suit and stand up in front of his friends and family, wait for Jenny to walk down the aisle on her dad's arm, the train of her white dress trailing behind her and a bouquet of lilies in her hands. 

He rolls over onto his stomach and groans into his pillow. He hears Tom sigh and then feels the warmth of his hand, rubbing heavy, comforting circles on his back.

He turns his head so it's pillowed on his arms and finally opens his eyes, his gaze immediately finding Tom's.

"Hey," Mike rasps out. He hadn't slept well the night before, tossing and turning into Tom's body and waking up several times from weird dreams where he was being invisibly pulled down the aisle of the church they were supposed to marry in, Tom just barely visible at the back of the church, reaching for him.

"Hi," Tom replies, a small smile on his face. It's been there pretty constantly this last week and it never fails to make Mike's heart race. Tom leans in and kisses him, just a quick brush of lips, and his heart picks up like a kick drum again. He burrows closer to Tom's warmth and closes his eyes, willing his heart to slow down and his mind to stop racing.

"So I was thinking," Tom says as he cards his fingers through Mike's hair. 

Mike snorts softly. "Don't hurt yourself."

"Hey," Tom says, pinching Mike's arm. "I'm serious."

"It's too early for thinking," Mike says. All he wants to do is go back to sleep, forget this day exists, and wake up tomorrow with no memory of it.

"I was thinking we should get outta here," Tom continues despite Mike's complaints. He presses his lips to the soft skin behind Mike's ear, curling his fingers around Mike's hip. "Maybe drive out of town, head up to the lake."

Mike sighs softly and doesn't open his eyes.

"We don't have to," Tom says then, when Mike doesn't respond. "I just thought -- y'know, it might be nice. I know today is gonna be difficult."

"Can we camp?" Mike says into Tom's shoulder, and Tom laughs, his breath tickling Mike's ear. 

"Whatever you want, bud," he says, quietly. 

"When can we leave?"

Tom grins, leans into kiss him and presses him back into the mattress. 

"Five more minutes," he mumbles, his mouth tracing a dirty line down Mike's neck. Mike arches into him and runs a hand down his back. 

\------ 

They finally emerge from bed, pack up Mike's truck, and are on the road in under an hour. Mike's pretty impressed, really, with how easily Tom's been able to distract him lately, that they managed to get out of bed at all. 

The drive out to the lake is beautiful, honestly. Lots of greenery, and no matter how many times Mike's seen it, it always relaxes him and makes him breathe just a little bit deeper, seeking out the clean, woodsy scent that tells him the lake is getting closer. 

Tom keeps his hand on Mike's thigh the whole drive, flexing his fingers into the firm muscle every few minutes, a consistent, silent _I'm here, bud,_ and it's both the best and worst distraction. 

They pull off the road awhile later, parking a little ways from the lake. Tom squeezes his thigh again and then hops out of the truck, stretching his back with an audible groan. 

"Getting old, huh?" Mike teases, coming around the back of the truck and grabbing a few bags. 

Tom punches him in the shoulder and grabs the bags out of his hand, running off closer to the lake where they usually set up camp. 

Mike grins, already more relaxed than he's been all week, grabs the tent, and follows after. 

It's the perfect day for this, the sun shining down over the water and the breeze light. They strip out of their shirts before working together to put the tent up, a comfortable silence between them.

They're both sweating once they're finished, and Mike sprawls on his back in the cool grass, closing his eyes. "Crashing already?" Tom asks, and when Mike opens his eyes, he sees Tom kicking out of his shorts. "Thought we could swim."

Mike's still not used to this, being able to look his fill at Tom, drink in the lean muscles and tanned skin, the curve of his ass as he turns to run for the lake. His mouth goes a little dry, and he gets to his feet and follows.

He shucks off his shorts as he follows, and he's glad Tom is ahead of him to not laugh at the way he stumbles out of them on his way. 

Tom is just far enough ahead that he hears him splash off the small boat dock before he can actually see the clearing to the water. 

He reaches the dock and calls Tom's name before he jumps in and turns a circle, letting the water lap at his shoulders as he looks for him. 

"You shit," he calls, laughing. Tom's done this since they were kids, always trying to one-up him in the water. 

He's just about to wade out further when he feels strong arms clasp around his legs and pull him down. He kicks back up and heads Tom laughing before he even breaks the surface. 

He smiles, the sound of Tom's laughter, the warmth of the water, and the distant echo of nature feeling exactly like summer. Exactly like what he needed. 

"There's my smile," Tom says quietly, bobbing ever closer to him in the water. 

"Your smile?" He asks, bringing his hand up to push the hair out of Tom's eyes, and letting his other hand grip at his waist, trying to steady them in the water. 

"Uh," Tom says, sheepishly chewing on his lower lip. "So you do this...thing? When you smile at me."

Mike blinks, confused. "A--thing? I do?"

Tom nods, looking adorably embarrassed. "Yeah, you, uh. The left side of your mouth kinda--twitches? God, this sounds so stupid," he groans, covering his face with one hand.

Mike reaches up and tugs it away, pressing a kiss to Tom's palm. "It's not. Tell me."

"You only do that when you're smiling at me," Tom answers with a shrug. "I've seen you smile at hundreds of people, and I've only seen that twitch when you smile at me." 

Mike stares at him in awe. He can't believe how stupid he's been these past two years.

"Sorry, it's probably really creepy that I noticed that, and also super sappy, so just forget--"

Mike cuts him off with a kiss, slotting his mouth against Tom's as he threads his fingers through Tom's wet hair. They're still treading water and both go down slowly, water lapping at their ears. When they break apart, they're both laughing.

"It's not creepy," he says, laughing. "It's kind of adorable."

Tom throws his head back and groans, rolling his eyes. "So, the opposite of sexy."

"Hey," Mike says, getting his hands in Tom's hair and guiding their lips together again. They kiss sloppy, lake water still trickling down their chins. Mike pushes his hips against Tom's as best he can in the water, letting him feel where he's already half-hard. 

"Don't you dare fucking doubt," he murmurs, pulling back a fraction, "how sexy I find you," he finishes, letting his hands wander down to grip Tom's hip, trying to keep them together. 

Tom groans for an entirely different reason then and buries his face in Mike's neck, nipping at his earlobe just this side of painful.

"Show, don't tell," he whispers into his ear, soothing the bite with his tongue. 

That sets Mike's heart racing. This whole thing is still so new, and Tom's jerked him off a few times, but he's still yet to do anything but run his fingers over Tom's dick. "There's no rush on any of this," Tom told him the other night, after Mike had come all over his own belly, Tom's hand wrapped around him. 

The thing is, he's just really fucking nervous. It's not that he doesn't want this -- all he thinks about is all the things he wants to do to Tom (and wants Tom to do to him). He just doesn't have a clue what he's doing.

It was easy with Jenny. They'd been together for so long that he knew what she liked, knew how to get her off. Where to press his fingers, how to flick his tongue. 

Tom must recognize the look on Mike's face, because he drops his hand from his hip and starts to swim away. Mike blinks, then frowns, calling after him. "Where are you going?"

Tom beats him to the dock and climbs up, and Mike's breath catches at the way the water runs down his back, over his ass. Tom's half hard when he turns to face Mike, a soft smile on his face. "C'mon," he says, holding a hand out to Mike to help him out of the water. They stand at the end of the dock, the sun warm on their shoulders, and Tom leans in, nuzzling his nose behind Mike's neck. "I'll show you how I like it." 

Mike shivers, a chill of anticipation sliding down his back. Tom smiles and laces their fingers together to pull him along the dock, their feet slick in the warm grass as they head toward the tent. 

"Hey," Tom squeezes his hand and Mike looks up to meet his eye. "Only what you're comfortable with, okay?"

Mike gives him a small smile and squeezes his hand back. He knows Tom would never push him past his breaking point with something like this. Tom challenges him in all other ways, especially hockey, and y'know, his entire view on how his life should be, apparently, but. Not in this. Mike trusts him. 

Tom unzips the tent when they reach it and pulls Mike in with him. They have to kneel immediately - it's a small two-person tent by design, but even less so for two bulky hockey players. Mike always enjoyed the tight squeeze before, long summer nights spent pressed necessarily close to Tom; he has a feeling the tight space will be put to even better use now. 

Tom pulls him closer, a hand on his waist. He leans closer and kisses Mike, coaxing his mouth open enough to slip his tongue in immediately, a frantic pace to the kiss that Mike just keens into. 

Tom's hand moves from his waist to his ass, pulling their bodies flush together. Mike can feel him, hard, throbbing against his thigh. Tom breaks their kiss and moves down Mike's neck, his nose exhaling warm air and chilling his damp neck. 

Tom's hand moves from gripping his ass to the front of his boxers, cupping his dick. Mike arches into it, gasping. The combination of his wet boxers and the warm air seem to be enhancing every touch, making him shiver in ways he normally wouldn't. (Maybe it's Tom, he thinks hazily, but that's an overwhelming thought that he can't process right now.)

Tom slides his hand into Mike's boxers and the skin-on-skin contact almost shocks him, it's so tingly good. Tom moves a bit and Mike can feel his dick hard against him again. Tom's mouth is on his chest now and it's fucking amazing, Mike can't even think from it, but that's not what this is supposed to be about. 

He brings his hands to Tom's shoulders and pushes back lightly. His mouth leaves Mike's chest with a questioning sound and Mike fucking groans at the look on his face. So fucking open and just... everything. 

"Want me to stop?" He asks, letting his hand fall from Mike's dick after one last touch. 

"Fuck, no, god. But I thought you were going to show me what you liked... I want this to be good for you, too," he says. 

Tom chuckles softly, ducking down to swirl his tongue around Mike's navel. Mike sucks in a breath, his hand slipping on the nylon floor as he fumbles for traction to keep himself propped up. "You don't need to worry about that," Tom mumbles against his skin, and the head of Mike's dick his just below Tom's chin, so close to his mouth that Mike has to close his eyes. "But if you want --"

His eyes open again when he feels the heat from Tom's body disappear, and they widen as he watches Tom sit back on his heels, drawing his cock from his boxers. Mike's eyes drop immediately to Tom's hand as he strokes himself slowly, the muscles in his thighs flexing rhythmically.

"Fuck," Mike whispers, scrambling to his knees in front of Tom. "That's...fuck, Tom."

"I like it slow,' Tom says, his voice rough, "and tight. And I like --" his breath hitches as he swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, and Mike suddenly has to touch. He covers Tom's hand with his own, getting his fingers between Tom's, and repeats the motion, pressing his thumb into the slit. Tom drops his chin to his chest and lets out a shaky breath.

"Like that?" Mike asks. 

"Fuck, shit, Mike," he says around a moan, and Mike takes that for a yes. 

He can do this. He wants to do this, wants to make Tom feel as fucking amazing as he does all the fucking time when they're together. 

He tightens his hand around Tom's shaft experimentally, and he gasps, his cock twitching and his hips grinding forward. 

Satisfied with the response, Mike keeps his grip tight and strokes him slowly, watching his face intently. He wants to make sure this is good for him, but mostly he just wants to fucking watch him, the way he's breathing out and biting his lip around the little noises he's making, like he can't quite handle what's happening. 

He swipes his thumb over the slit every few upstrokes and Tom's to the point where his hips arch forward every time, chasing the feeling.

Mike is fucking mesmerized. 

He can't get enough. He's suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to lay Tom out flat, kiss every inch of bare skin he can get his mouth on. 

He works a knee between Tom's, needing to be closer. He sucks and bites at Tom's neck, tugging his ear lobe between his teeth. Tom's skin is slick with sweat, the late-morning sun above their tent heating it up from outside. "C'mon, Latts, harder," Tom groans, and his breath hitches when Mike twists his wrist.

"I wanna blow you," he says, right into Tom's ear, and Tom moans, reaching between them to still Mike's hand.

He's breathing heavily, wet hair hanging over his forehead, and he brings Mike's hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles. "Fuck yes," he manages, and Mike swallows hard, suddenly nervous. 

Shit. He didn't think that through all the way. 

But he watches Tom's face for a second, sweat sliding down his temples, breathing labored. He looks fucking amazing, and Mike's cock twitches against his thigh. Every single part of him wants to make Tom feel as fucking amazing as possible. 

"Mike, it's okay. You know there's nooo -" 

Mike's pretty sure he was going to tell him, again, that there's no rush, and Mike fucking loves him for that, but his words cut off into a low, thready groan when Mike gets the head of his cock in his mouth. 

He's nervous, he's definitely never done this before, but all it takes is feeling the vibration of Tom's full body moan and the palm of his hand carding through Mike's hair for him to just go for it. 

Tom's considerate as hell, even though Mike can feel the muscles in his thighs straining. He doesn't fuck up into Mike's mouth (but he's pretty sure he'd be into that at some point in the future, if only to feel Tom's reaction.) 

He slicks his mouth down Tom's cock, sucks in his cheeks as he's coming back up. It's both completely and not entirely different than going down on a girl. 

The way Tom gasps when Mike swirls his tongue around the head makes him want to do it again and again, just to hear that sound again. Tom's hand is resting lightly on the back of his neck, his thumb swiping along Mike's damn hairline on every upstroke of Mike's tongue. 

He gets his hands on Tom's thighs, taking deep breaths through his nose before going down again, taking Tom as deep as he can. He gags a little, wetness springing to his eyes, and Tom groans as he tugs at Mike's hair gently, pulling him up.

Mike looks up at Tom with his mouth half open, lips swollen and tingling, and swallows. "What?" he asks, and fuck, he hardly recognizes his own voice.

"I was gonna come if you kept doing that," Tom admits, and Mike's feeling confident enough to smirk at him.

"I kinda thought that was the point."

"Jesus fuck, Mike," he groans, his hips arching. 

Mike wants to destroy him. 

He buries his face in the crease of Tom's thigh. The heady taste of sex and saliva makes his own cock twitch again, and he reaches down to give himself a few tight strokes. 

"Fuuuck," Tom whispers, and Mike glances up to meet his eye. "You look so fucking good doing that."

Mike grins and watches Tom match it before he nuzzles his nose against the head of his cock and takes him back down. 

He closes his mouth tight around the head and swirls his tongue once, twice, waiting for that whimpery-good noise again. 

Tom, of course, doesn't disappoint. 

"Fuck, babe. Don't fuckin' stop."

Mike hollows his cheeks and runs his tongue right along the vein of his dick, spit dripping out of his mouth. He fists his hand around the base of Tom's cock and drags up to meet his mouth, and Tom fucking snarls. 

Mike feels him grow even harder in his mouth and hears him mumbling above him. 

"Gonna come," Tom mumbles, sounding completely gone. 

Mike tastes the first spurt before he can decide if that's something he wants to taste, but the throb of Tom's cock feels good enough that he just goes with it. 

He pulls off when Tom whimpers, knowing all-too-well the how quickly the overwhelming feeling can go from fucking amazing to too much. He keeps his fist loose around the base, slow, easy strokes as Tom comes down. 

He's straddling his hips, his cock desperately hard against Tom's softening one when Tom finally opens his eyes. 

"Christ, Mike."

Mike grins, filthy. 

"C'mere, babe," Tom says, his eyes on Mike's cock, his hands reaching weakly for his hips. 

Mike eyes him, the way he's still flat-out in his back and making no move to sit up. 

"Like this?" He asks, gesturing. 

"Fuck yes." 

Mike knee-walks up his chest and Tom licks his lips. Shit. 

"Are you sure--" the words are lost in a groan as Tom leans forward and presses a kiss to the tip of Mike's cock. 

"C'mon," Tom urges, one hand on each of Mike's asscheeks, pulling him closer. 

"Oh my god," Mike blurts as his cock bobs against Tom's chin. Tom grins and flicks his tongue along Mike's shaft, getting one hard around the base to hold Mike still as he tilts his head up to wrap his lips around Mike's cock.

Mike's eyes roll back in his head. 

He stays completely still, the muscles in his thighs quivering, as Tom licks him up and down, this thumbs gently stroking the creases of his thighs. "Babe," he says softly, turning his head to brush a kiss against the soft skin near Mike's knee. "Look at me."

Mike opens his eyes and looks down, drinks in the sight of Tom lying there, his warm, pink mouth hovering over his cock. It's fucking intense, and he almost looks away again, but Tom reaches a hand up to cup his jaw, guiding him down into a kiss that's more awkward that hot. Mike can't bring himself to care. 

When they break apart, their mouths still almost touching, Tom whispers, "I want you to fuck my mouth."

Mike whimpers. He's man enough to admit it. 

"Yeah?" He croaks out, his brain half a second from short-circuiting. 

"Fuck, please," Tom says, gripping Mike's ass and pulling him closer. His cheeks spread a bit as he moves, the slow slide of friction from Tom's fingers making him shiver. 

His cock slides against Tom's plush lower lip and Mike almost loses it right there. He's so fucking close, bordering on overwhelmed. 

The head of his cock slides into Tom's mouth and he stills. It's so fucking good. 

He pushes in a little more, and Tom's bottom lip catches on the flare of the head, the wet sucking noise so damn hot.

He moves his hips slowly, his cock sliding slowly in and then back out. Tom's mouth is tight around him, the pink of his lips slick and obscene. 

Tom's fingers clench into his ass and pull him forward roughly. He makes a noise low in his throat and Mike worries he's hurt him, eyes going wide and trying to pull back, but Tom's grip tightens even more and holds him there, grabbing and moving his ass even harder against his face. 

The look on his face, even though it's slightly red and slick with sweat, is nearly enough to make Mike come right then. 

That open desire on his face, the sheer want in his eyes, calms Mike down and shifts his focus back to his throbbing cock. 

He feels Tom's mouth go slack around him and his fingers slide over the crease of his ass again. Tom's pinky just brushes over his hole and Mike's hips buck automatically, his cock hitting the roof of Tom's mouth and suddenly he's coming, abs spasming and fingers curling in the nylon of the tent floor. 

He pulls back, the last couple drops landing on Tom's neck as he pushes himself back down his chest and lets most of his weight land on Tom's hips. 

"Fuck," he hears Tom whisper, a hand splayed on his chest. 

Mike basically can't move, now that he's sure he's not crushing Tom. 

He shivers when Tom's fingertips trail up his spine, Tom's hand settling at the base of his neck.

"Wow," he mumbles into Tom's chest. "That was--wow."

Tom laughs softly, and Mike presses a kiss to his collarbone before rolling off of him to lay on his back, the nylon floor sticky against his sweat-slicked skin.

Tom levers himself up on one elbow, gazing down at Mike. "Hey," he says. "Are you ok? That was--that was ok, right?"

"Are you kidding?" Mike asks. "Fuck yes it was ok. I've never--" he clears his throat, closing his eyes against the images of Jenny popping up in his memory. "Done anything like that before. Not--like that."

He doesn't want to think about why Tom had been so good at it, why he'd taken him down his throat so easily, so eagerly.

He has no right, really. 

Mike shakes his head, willing the thoughts away. He doesn't even want to think about Tom with another guy, with someone more experienced, someone who got him first. 

He doesn't know if that's fair though. Tom had to watch him with Jenny all those years. He can't even imagine how many times he basically shoved his relationship in Tom's face, how many times Tom might have seen them make out - or worse. He remembers Jenny's tentative hand creeping up his thigh in a dark theatre once, Tom right on his other side. He'd been hard in seconds. He couldn't tell you the name of the movie now. 

Tom probably has all these memories of him, and him and Jenny, and god, Mike feels like the biggest tool again. So the idea of Tom with another guy makes his stomach ache... It's got to be easier than the reality that Mike shoved down his throat for two years. 

"Hey," Tom whispers, his thumb rubbing a circle into the base of Mike's neck. "Where'd you go, babe?"

He opens his eyes. Tom's staring right at him, the most open expression Mike's ever seen on his face. He looks relaxed, and finally fucking happy, and so, so gorgeous. 

"I love you." It's not at all what he intended to say. 

He doesn't miss the way Tom's eyes widen slightly, or the way his hand tightens on the back of Mike's neck. 

"Yeah?" Tom whispers. "You're not --" he clears his throat and runs a hand through his still-damp hair. "No regrets?"

"I regret that Jenny got hurt," Mike admits. (He'd texted her that morning, against his better judgement, before he and Tom headed out, a simple I'm sorry. He wasn't surprised that she hadn't replied.) "I regret rubbing anything in your face, even though I didn't know I was doing it." He swallows hard, his eyes meeting Tom's. "And I regret not realizing sooner how I feel about you. But this?" He waves a hand between them, then reaches up to cup Tom's jaw, stroking his fingers down his face. "I don't regret this. Us. Never."

Tom turns his head to kiss the palm of Mike's hand. "I love you too," he says, and Mike can't remember the last time he's seen Tom look this happy.

 

"Hey," Mike says, quietly, a couple beats later. 

"Hmm?" Tom murmurs, his mouth still warm on Mike's palm. 

"Thank you."

Tom raises an eyebrow, a look Mike knows all too well. It's his 'you're insane but you're my best friend, so I'll go with it' look. 

"Today was..." He trails off when Tom nods. He knows full well what today was. He'd had nightmares about it while Mike had been clueless. 

"You made today easier." 

Tom gives him a small smile and ducks his head a bit, burrowing his face into Mike's palm.

"You made today easier on me," he says, and Mike stops running his fingers through his hair for a second.

The confusion must show on his face, because Tom sits up straight and grabs his hand. 

"Look. Eight days ago, I was your best man. I was gonna walk Jenny's cousin down the aisle and pose for your pictures and fuck, if you needed it, I'd have talked you out of cold feet. I'd have done that with a smile on my face if it made you happy. But after all that? Knowing I couldn't ever be with you how I wanted to then? I couldn't even think about it." 

 

Mike stares at him in awe. If he 's being honest, he's still a little blown away that his best friend feel this way about him, that he's lucky enough to have the best of both worlds with Tom. 

"You were really gonna let me marry her?" he asks. "No dramatic 'speak now or forever hold your peace' moment?" He's teasing, but Tom's smile is still a little sad.

"Nah, man. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. You know that. Shoudla told you a long time ago how I felt. Figured if I lost my chance, it was on me."

Mike leans in and kisses him then, soft and sweet and nothing like the heated moments they'd shared just a few minutes ago. "Remind me to thank whoever provided you with sixteen beers at my bachelor party then," he says, and Tom laughs, loud and bright, shoving at Mike's shoulder. 

Mike reaches for his hand and laces their fingers together, swiping his thumb over the pulse in Tom's wrist. "I wanna be with you," he says, well aware that his voice is shaking. "I mean, if that wasn't clear. I wanna do this. With you." 

His face lights up, his eyes crinkling and his smile growing into that easy grin that just wrecks Mike every damn time. 

Mike can feel the moment Tom's pulse picks up, thrumming steadier under his fingers. 

"God. Me too, Mike." 

"You wanna do this with you, too?" he teases, laughing when Tom groans. 

Tom leans forward to swallow his laugh in a kiss and throws a leg over his hips, covering Mike's body with his own. Their hips align and Mike gasps. 

Tom pulls away and buries his face in Mike's neck. 

"I wanna do everything. With you," he whispers. 

Despite the near-suffocating heat in the tent, Mike shivers when Tom's fingers trail up his side, just the ghost of a touch sending goosebumps up and down his arms. 

"Everything?" Mike manages with just the slightest roll of his hips. He's half-hard against Tom's hip again, a perk of being 18 and full of hormones, and the slide of Tom's skin against his dick is electrifying.

Tom bites gently at his earlobe, kissing his way along Mike's jaw. "Mmhmm," he hums, and Mike spreads his legs just so, enough that Tom can fit his body snugly between them. 

His heart is beating hard against his ribcage, a tight ball of nerves forming in his stomach as Tom kisses down his neck. 

In typical Mike fashion, he ruins the moment by opening his mouth.

"Have you ever fucked a guy?" he blurts, and while he really does want to know, feels like he needs to know, he really wishes he would have posed the question in a different way, or when he wasn't lying naked with his best friend, his cock hard against his own belly. 

"Jesus," Tom mutters, a sharp exhale of breath against his clavicle. "We need to work on your timing, Mike," he says, a slight twinkle to his eye, but no smile on his face.

It's there. Tom's giving him an out, letting him off the hook like he always does. Mike can backtrack, say he's sorry, get Tom's mouth back on his neck in seconds if he wants. 

And god knows he wants that. He wants the easy way, just once this week. He wants the choice where no one gets hurt and nothing is hard to talk about, just one time. 

Tom runs a hand over his hip and it brings him back to the moment. 

"I know," he says, an apology in the curve of his smile. "I know," he repeats, but he doesn't make a move to pull Tom back in closer. "But I think I need to know." 

Tom's eyes widen and he sits back on his heels. "Okay," he says, running a hand over his chin. 

Mikes pretty sure he has his answer already. 

"C'mon," Tom says, reaching over and grabbing his shorts. "It's too damn hot in here." 

Tom's ducking out of the tent with his shorts half buttoned when Mike finally starts moving. 

It is cooler outside, but the sun is still beating down on them through the trees. Mike wishes he'd remembered to bring sunscreen for the tops of Tom's shoulders while they make the short walk back to the dock. 

Tom's quiet when their bare feet hit the wooden planks, and Mike doesn't push. He's not sure he wants to. 

Tom sits on the edge of the dock, his feet hanging in the water and looks over his shoulder at Mike, gesturing next to him, like Mike hasn't always known his place. 

He sits, and Tom glides a hand around the back of his neck, rubbing lightly into the muscle. Mike's reminded of a photo his mom has in the living room - a scene just like this, but from several years back. The first time his family had invited Tom along to go camping. 11-year-old Tom had used the hand on Mike's neck to push him in the water just seconds after the photo was snapped. 

He's pretty sure that won't happen now. 

Tom clears his throat and presses his fingers deeper until Mike meets his eye. 

"Do you remember the summer after junior year? When I went to visit my cousins in July?" 

Mike nods. He was supposed to go on that trip, had most summers before. Tom's cousins were cool, all into hockey, and lived near the beach. He hadn't gone that summer, though. Jenny was going to spend all of August away as a camp counselor, and they hadn't wanted to spend the whole summer apart. Tom had been upset, but said he understood. He always said he understood. 

"I was so fucked up over you, man," he admits, and Mike watches Tom's face as he gazes out over the water, remembering. "We all got drunk one night, my cousins and me and a bunch of their buddies, and I don't know. I met this guy." He shrugs one shoulder, and Mike's stomach twists. 

"He was easy to talk to, or maybe I'd just had enough beers that I felt like baring my soul. Told him all about you."

Mike swallows. "What did you say?" 

Tom just shakes his head. "It was the first time I really realized the thing with Jenny was serious," he says, and his voice is softer when he continues. "The first time you chose her over me."

Mike's heart sinks. He'd never thought about it like that.

"We started kissing," he says, his cheeks going a little pink. "He said he'd help me forget about you, and I wanted to believe him. So yeah, Mikey. Yeah, I have."

Mike exhales. He feels like he's been holding his breath since he blurted out that question. 

It's the answer he expected. He just didn't expect it to feel so... real. Stupidly, he didn't think it'd have anything to do with him. The first time he'd slept with Jenny... That had been truly between the two of them. The only thought he'd had of Tom had been in the moments after, hazy and thrilled to tell him he'd finally done it. 

"Was that," he stops, clears his throat. The hard part is over, the answer is out there. "Was that the only time?"

Tom nods. "With a guy? Yeah. It was too real back here. You were the one guy I really wanted to be with. I couldn't pick up. Plus, I mean, who'd it have been?" 

Mike shakes his head. He can't imagine Tom with any of the other guys they went to school with. He'd seen him with girls, of course, messy haired and a marked neck the morning after dances or double dates with him and Jen. But they'd never stuck around. He figured it was Tom just being Tom, social to his core, too outgoing, too much to want to be tied down to a girl. Maybe the girls had always known. Maybe they'd seen Tom watching him or felt how distracted he was when Mike was around. He doesn't know. 

It's quiet except for the sounds of nature all around them. Mike realizes he hasn't said anything in a couple minutes. He's been staring out over the water, and Tom's been staring at him. 

"Did it... that first time, did it mean anything to you?" 

"With the guy?" Tom asks, his forehead crinkling in question. Maybe it was a silly question. 

Mike nods. 

"Mike. I mean, I don't know what to say. I didn't even know the guy. I'd met him like three days before and I didn't see him again. Did I enjoy it? I was drunk, but yeah," he trails off, his fingers gripping the edge of the dock like he's about to jump in or he's trying to pull himself back up, Mike can't tell. 

"But like, emotionally? No, it definitely didn't feel the way you felt with Jenny or the way --" He stops, his cheeks going pink. 

"The way...?" Mike prompts. 

"The way everything feels with you," he finishes, meeting Mike's eyes. 

And that -- yeah, that's what Mike's been waiting to hear. 

"I'm an idiot, huh?" he says sadly, knocking his shoulder against Tom's. "Coulda had this all with you a long time ago."

"Hey," Tom says, tucking one leg up underneath him as he turns to face Mike. "No, don't -- you're not. It's not like I was any better, right? I could have told you. I should have told you, I guess, I just," he shrugs, like he's at a loss.

"We can't change it now, though," Mike says softly. "So we can just -- move forward. You and me, together against the world."

Tom grins and leans in to ruffle Mike's hair. "I like the sound of that."

Mike catches his wrist, pulls his hand down so it's resting in his lap, their fingers linked. "And I mean, uh," he clears his throat, his cheeks going a little pink. "I've never done -- any of this. With a guy. So it's, uh. It's still special," he says, rushing the last words. "To me."

"Oh, Mike," he sighs, and Mike can hear the laughter in his voice. "Even if I'd done any of this a hundred times, it'd still be special with you." 

Well, shit. 

"I still might not be ready, for uh, everything right away," he says, tightening his grip on Tom's hand. 

Tom smiles. "I wasn't gonna jump you, bud. I want this to mean something. I mean, shit. It already means something. But I mean, I don't wanna do it in the truck the first time or whatever."

"Tom Wilson, I think the word you're looking for is 'romance.'"

Tom makes a face, and they both laugh. 

"We'll work up to, okay? Not until we're both ready," Tom says, meeting his eye. 

Mike hadn't even stopped to think about whether Tom might be ready or not. He just assumed--

Well, that was silly. If the past eight days had taught him anything, it was that even something that seemed completely far-fetched and out of the question (like, say, your best friend being in love with you) was never really out of the question at all.

"This is all gonna blow over, right? Before we leave?" They were heading to State in three weeks to start the next chapter in their young lives, and the thought of leaving this place with anyone hating him makes a knot of sadness coil in his belly. He deserves it, he knows that, but he's (selfishly) hoping people will be proud of him for making the decision he made.

"Yeah, man. I think it will. I mean, we should probably still, like, keep this quiet," he says, and Mike knows this means them. "For now, anyway. While we're still here."

Jenny's the only one who knows, as far as Mike can tell. He wouldn't blame her if she dragged his name through the mud, revealed everything to the whole town after what he did, calling off their wedding like that. Something she said sticks with him, though. 

_Anyone with eyes knows Tommy Wilson's been into you forever._

"I don't think people will be too surprised," Mile says then, ducking in to catch Tom's lips in a kiss.


End file.
